Cold air
by Jorum
Summary: A try for a longer love story set parallel to the main happenings of HP5. Contains/will  probably  contain slash, scenes of a sexual nature and HP/RW-pairing. Rated M for the inevitable future parts with just that.
1. Chapter 1

For some reason Ron wasn't the one keeping a roommate awake with noisy sleeping habits. Harry was tossing back and forward in his sleep, make bothered sounds and grunts that seemed to bear the signs of nightmares. Though, this had been the routine ever since Harry had arrived at Grimmauld Place a couple of days earlier – just like the excruciating silences that seemed to appear between the two of them and Hermione. The absence of letters and information regarding You-know-who had not fallen well with the boy who lived, and he didn't seem to keen on letting go of that grudge anytime soon.

Suddenly a loud thump was heard from the hallway on the other side of the door. Ron, at this time almost half asleep, turned quickly around to see Harry do just the same on the other bed though still sleeping unsoundly. Ron sat up on the side of the bed and put his feet into a pair Percy's old slippers, the ones which his brother himself had engraved "P. I. W." using golden stitches. Walking towards the door, Ron could feel the cold air seeping through the cracks in the wooden floor, and he wrapped one arm around himself as he turned the knob. Outside he could see a incredibly startled Kreacher trying to drag an old chiffonier down the crooked staircase. Not at all interested in this, he decided to just go back into the room and close the door. He found Harry sitting up in his bed, sweaty and exhausted.

"What was it?" Harry asked quite sleepy.

"Oh, just Kreacher gitting around with some old heirloom. If we're lucky it'll tumble over and crush him at the bottom of the stairs." A small smirk could be seen on Harry's face before the boy started to doze of again, to come alive again with a twist. Now Ron smirked back.

"You seem really tired? You alright?" he said, already knowing the answer.  
>"Uhm, yeah, just. It's just..."<p>

"The scar and the nightmares?" Ron filled in, making Harry look quite blushed and ashamed.

"You have them every night, right? You're tossing around, whining and talking about him. Even as bystander, that is disturbing mate."

"I didn't know that I was bothering you, Ron. I can probably stay in Sirius room if that's what you want?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. You know I didn't! It's just that I worry about you. We all do, Harry. It's hard to see you ache like that."

"Well, it's a lot harder having to suffer it through every night! I see him kill people Ron, innocent people! And I can't do anything about it." Harry shouted before standing up and aiming his steps towards the door. He didn't get that far before being held on by Ron's unexpectedly strong arms, and then his embrace.

"I'm so angry Ron. And so scared." Harry whimpered, still tensed in his whole body. Ron could feel tear dripping down from Harry's cheek onto his shoulder, and tightened his grip.

"I'm here Harry. It's gonna be okay. It's all gonna be okay."

Harry let his guard down and relaxed his body. He wrapped his arms around Ron's back and for a while, they just stood there.

"I've got to use the loo." Harry said, now free from Ron's hold but wiping his face with the sleeve of his pajamas shirt.

When Harry came back, Ron had already laid himself down in his bed to sleep. He stood in the door-frame for a while till Ron reacted.

"Why are you standing over there for?"

"I, I don't wanna sleep alone. Can we..?" Ron looked at Harry and then sidled to the right, leaving some room. Harry slowly walked over and lifted the covers, slipped in and made Ron jump a bit with his cold feet.

"Sorry."

Harry let his sight rest on the dark wallpaper, not really wanting to fall asleep. The bed felt snug with Ron in it, but the problem still remained – the dreams with Voldemort. Or, as Voldemort. He had been him, in the dream? He had seen what the dark lord wanted, and desired. He had felt it. And the door. What was with that door? The centered golden knob, and the dark floor leading up to it. He wanted in, Harry knew it. Then, Ron wrapped his arm around him and laid his hand on Harry's. Soon they both would be asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry woke up alone in Ron's bed, and the room, with the covers at his feet and and sun sieving through the old glass windows. Definitely a new experience since Ron is impossible to wake up any given morning, but after putting his glasses on he could with a quick glare at the old grandfather clock in the corner see that he had almost slept until noon. A quick jump out of bed, and an unfortunately cold shower later (Kreacher had "misplaced" the gold set shower knob that regulated the heat) he walked down half the stair-steps and tumbled down the rest. Crookshanks had been hiding in a small nook and jumped out just as Harry was walking past, and now both the boy and the kneezle-cat laid flat on the floor.

"Oh, my dear boy! Are you okay Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking ridiculously plump from frog perspective.

"Yeah, fine thanks, just a bit rumbled." he replied while waving his wand at his broken glasses.

"Oculus reparo!" he mouthed and supported himself on the banister with hope of getting of the ground without falling down again.

After the success with the concept of standing up, he followed Mrs. Weasley into the kitchen where most of the Weasley clan and Hermione where having lunch.

"Ah, Harry! Are we good enough for you now that we have food?" the twins said in unison.

"Feeling better?" Ginny kindly asked, and for a moment Harry looked at Ron before the red headed boy blurted: "Yeah, I told them about your headache, you know?" in a speed and manner that shouldn't have convinced anyone. Hermione looked knowingly at Harry, who had sat himself opposite of Fred. He had managed to put an entire piece of shepherd's pie in his mouth, and George was now trying to make him laugh. Soon they all could see mashed potatoes run out of a reasonable sized nose.

In an hour Hermione, Ron and Harry sat in the small backyard wearing unexpectedly many layers of clothing. The decking was constantly shadowed but at the same time the only place in the house they could be almost entirely sure of not being overheard, so they just had to abear the unusually chilly August winds.

"I do think you should tell Dumbledore about these dreams Harry, or Sirius. They might know what they mean!"  
>"Ah, give it up Hermione. Harry doesn't need to go blabbing about this to the whole order, they're just nightmares, I mean. He saw Cedric get killed for fuck's sake!" Ron ranted. "I dream of bloody Aragog from time to time, but it doesn't mean that I'm under constant danger. Just that they are so, so, so very scary."<p>

Hermione and Ron went on, but to Harry it was just background noise. He had grown sick of just being around the Black estate, being kept out of all the order business and all the Weasley's staring at him as if he was doomed. On the other hand, maybe he was.

"Come." he said, rushing into the lower hall and then up the stairs. When Ron and Hermione caught up he had already gotten his invisibility cloak from his trunk.

"The order is busy for at least two more hours, and I've get out of here. Are you coming with me?" he said, and both of his friends nodded with slight reservation.

Once they stepped down the stairs of 12th Grimmauld place, and then took a right, Harry felt better in an instant. They walked down another residential road before getting to a small rundown mall, where Harry took at turn so abruptly that both Hermione and Ron went from invisibility mode under the cloak to the opposite.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered, and he signaled his whereabouts with the flashing of a feet. Ron and Hermione walked after him into the mall and went over to the food court. Harry gave Hermione his small collection of pound coins he found around Little Whinging and then kept in a small box at the Dursley's in case he had to actually use muggle money. While Hermione was searching for some acceptable food (Fred's mashed potato incident had ruined everybody's appetite at lunch), Ron and Harry sat down on a dirty wooden bench.

"You know, I didn't tell her everything you said, Harry. Just that, that you have nightmares... Thought that you could tell here the rest, if you want to."

"Yeah, thanks." a small voice replied.

For an outsider, it seemed as if a ginger's hand was floating just a little bit over the worn wood, as if it was resting it on top of something unseen.

Hermione came back some minutes later with a McDonald's bag, slightly see-thru because of the grease accompanying the food. They went down a way where the faux-marble floor had been bent up and all that was left was hard concrete, and to their sides former muggle shops. Feeling secure in this non-attended part of the shopping center, Harry slid the cloak of himself and they sat down to eat.

"What is this rubbish!" Ron exclaimed, "I'd rather go veggie than eat this rubbish ever again!"

"Oh, come on Ron, it's not that bad." Hermione said. "I'd always loved it when my parents bought me fast food. Of course, I couldn't have any fizzy drinks but the fries are just divine, aren't they?"

"Muggles..." Ron muttered while still consuming his Big Mac like if he'd the munchies. When Harry and Hermione looked at him with judgment he simply replied:

"We'll a bloke's got eat, hasn't he?" with dressing on the side of his mouth.

On their way back, they talked like if they we're back at Hogwarts, where their concerns just stretch as far as essays and quidditch. It felt nice, but at the same time Harry thought, naïve. Everything had changed when he grabbed on to that port key in the maze. The dark lord wasn't a distant threat anymore, much more something constantly hanging over their heads all the time. A year ago, he'd never felt the need to conceal himself among muggles, but now... How could he know who was a death eater and who wasn't? What could he, Hermione and Ron possibly put up against them during a show down? They'd all be turned to smithereens right there on a pavement and well... That's just not that uplifting. And Hermione would never forgive him for getting her killed before the O.W.L's.

When they got thru the front door, Mrs. Weasley opened the double-doors from the dining room and jumped, startled.

"Oh, didn't see you there. What are you doing here in the hallway anyhow, I don't approve of you eavesdropping you know. What you need to know the order will tell you so now, off, off! Away with you."

Walking up the stairs the trio exhaled.

"We're bloody lucky she didn't catch us coming in the door, she would have killed us!" Ron said, almost repeating Harry's stumbling spectacle from earlier this day. Harry grabbed Ron's left arm, and to keep himself from falling he had to grab Hermione's shoulder.

"Jeez mate, use your eyes!" Harry blurted, getting a death stare in return.

After spending a couple of hours upstairs just faffing around, and then some time downstairs being showed full of delicious food, Ron and Harry laid back on their beds.

"I'm so 'effing stuffed right now that I'd like to die. Please, oh please, won't someone just end my misery?" Ron complained like their would be no tomorrow.

"Avada kedavra!" Harry jokingly replied before they both started laughing heavily.

"Aouch, aah, my stomach!" Ron shouted as he tipped to his side from laughter, cramping insanely.

Harry reached for his book about quidditch thru the times, which he was giving a second go, and then laid back down on his side and started flickering thru the pages.

"Harry?"

"Yeah Ron?"

"What if you,, you know, die?"

"What do you mean; "What if I die?"

"It's just... I'm not really fond of the idea. If you're about to, just don't 'cause... We'll, you've got to think of me you know. I don't really have any friends except for you and Hermione. Seamus is Irish and you know how that kind of pisses me of, I mean. Just speak like normal people, why won't you? And Dean's busy snogging my sis'... So just. Don't die, okay?"

"... Yeah, thanks Ron. I'll try not to." Harry said, not sure how to respond to this very moderate and confusing expression of emotion.

"And Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I kinda do love you. Though you should know that, just in case you go dying on me."

"Okay Ron. Thanks." Harry said, still not looking up from the pages of his book in fear of an awkward tension awaiting elsewhere in the room. Ron was watching the wallpaper, the same spot that Harry had watched last night, trying to avoid just the same thing. After trying to read the same sentence for the hundred and eleventh time, Harry walked over to Ron' bed an laid down beside him.

"I love you to, you know."


	3. Chapter 3

Their compartment wast probably the least well kept of the lot, but it felt good being on the Hogwarts express once again. Hermione was the only one who seemed to be bothered by the worn down seats, the slight smell of mold and the cool breeze trickling in around the window frame as she wrapped herself tighter in her blouse and wrinkled her nose. The landscape was beginning to look more familiar even though it was a bit harder to tell the details from one and other now that it was getting dark. They didn't have to wait long before a Rawenclaw prefect Harry didn't really know the name of tapped their window and said "We'll be at Hogwarts soon, just a head's up!". The three of them began to pack up their carry-ons, which in Hermione's case was a heap of books and in the others just some sugary items of joy.

Seeing the castle from the carriage made Harry feel nostalgic. All his best memories are from Hogwarts, and he hoped that this year could bring some more. He glanced over at Ron, who's eyes he met for a brief second before going back to Luna's lips. She was ranting like if she belonged at a mental institution, Harry thought. What the hell is a Nargle? Behind the bag to his right, he could feel his fingertips barely touching Ron's, probably by accident, but still it was distracting him. The closeness made Harry's whole body tense up, and his brain freeze.

"What do you think Harry?" Luna asked.

"What? Think about what?"  
>"Of Bathilda Bagshot being the re-incarnation of Helga Hufflepuff of course!<p>

"It makes complete sense, right? Especially considering that they both are vampires." Luna ranted on.

"Oh, right."

Ron leaned in a bit, so utterly close to Harry's ear that Ron's lips could be felt by the skins tiny hairs.

"Bonkers, that one is."

The feast was completely marvelous that evening. Ron gulped away at the Cottage pie's, the puddings, the roasted turkey, the dauphinois as well as almost everything else. Most disturbingly, Harry thought, was the fact that Ron had helped himself to a second serving of eel aspic. Hermione spent most of the meal talking to Ginny about boys. It had become clear over the summer that Ginny per owl had been quite wooed by a few Gryffindorer's, to her brothers despair. They both left the table before Harry on Ron because of the latter's never ending apatite, and Harry's love of the feeling of the first meal at Hogwarts.

When the boys eventually headed up the stairs, along with Neville. Ron was lyrical over the taste sensations they had experienced that evening.

"That peach cream tart was amazing! I would have eaten two pie tins more if the bloody house-elfs would have kept 'em coming."

"Speaking as your room-mate Ron, I'm quite pleased you didn't. You'd be complaining and moaning all night you know!" Neville said while panting from walking quite quickly up the stairs.

Harry tried to keep his tittering in, with poor success.

"What are you on about?" Neville asked.

"Oh, nothing." Harry replied, while glancing over at Ron who was slightly blushing and looking at the painting with unusual interest.

That night Ron had a hard time sleeping. The room was incredibly warm, and he had become accustomed to sleeping with a lot fewer people in the room than a dozen – the constant turnings, grunts, snores and occasional words made the sound level unexpectedly high for a dormitory. He decided to head for the loo and a drink of water, and as he tried to navigate through the dark room with only the half moon's dim light as his guidance he slammed his shoulder against Harry's bedpost. He stopped for a minute to see if he accidentally awoken anyone, but they all seemed determined to tend to their business of sleep.

The white tiles off the bathroom floor felt cool against his feet and he instantly wished that he had worn slippers. Normally the tiles would be ridden with dirt and germs, but with the students just arriving a couple hours ago it was quite clean. He bent down to the running tap for a sip, then closed his eyes and splashed his face with the cool water. His thoughts went to the night he and Harry had shared bed. The fleeting interlocking of fingers. The closeness and comfort. He had thought it was for Harry's sake, that Harry needed someone to be there for him in that way but he was beginning to realize that... Well. He thought that he needed it too. At the very least, he wanted Harry to be close to him. He had caught himself several times looking at his friend as if in trance, just watching the jawbones curve or the dark hair's movement in a slight breeze or the bend in the corner of the mouth or just anything at all. And his lips...

"Ron?" a familiar voice said.

Ron quickly straightened up and turned around, feeling the water drip of his face and run down his neck, making his neckline darker.

"Harry! What are you doing up?"

"I just to get up for a while... I had another dream. Thought I'd walk it of or something."

"Oh. Are you okay? Or, I mean... Well, are you?"

"Uhm, yeah, I guess. Just a bit shaken. He was arguing with someone... I don't really know what happened." Harry said and walked over to the sink next to Ron for a drink of water. Ron let his hand rest on Harry's shoulder. Then it slid down a bit, slowly, stopping at the curve of the back. Harry turned his head over his shoulder and looked at Ron a short while before straightening up, placing himself just a few centimeters from his friend. The room began to feel warmer, and Harry started to lean in just to regret it, and started looking to his side instead. Then an intense kiss, with Ron letting his large palm and fingers find grip in Harry's hair and pulling him in. Their lips were exploring each other with a great interest, and Ron softly bit Harry's lower lip before they let their tongues finally touch. When they parted, a short look in each others eyes made the red haired on blush once again, whilst Harry evasively looked down to the floor.

"Oh, okay..." Harry said, feeling the taste of spearmint on his tongue.

"Yeah..." Ron uttered vaguely.

The distance from the bathroom to their beds was so long that it felt like an insane torment; awkwardness from a place lower than hell but... Their hand holding together all the way to the dormitory's threshold was just lovely.


	4. Chapter 4

The week passed them without any mentioning of the minutes they had spent together in the bathroom. Actually, it passed without them spending much time at all together, and when they where a lot of other students was usually around. Harry couldn't really figure out if he was the one trying to avoid Ron or if it was the other way around, all he knew was that he had started hanging out with Hermione and Ginny whilst Ron seemed to find Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas a lot more interesting than ever before.

As Seamus was telling another quite offensive joke at dinner in the great hall that Friday Ron couldn't help to think how little time he could spend with the Irish lad without wanting to pull his own or Seamus hair out. Though, the thought, it was much better than being alone all day since Harry seemed to be avoiding him, and with that taking Hermione with him. He glanced quickly at the raven haired boy and saw that he was nitpicking his food, when Hermione's hand suddenly appeared in front of his gaze.

"Ron, are you OK?"

Her sharp voice pierced the surrounding conversations and it seemed as if everyone was looking at him. He looked alarmed as he choked on the answer, tried to drink some water and spilled most of it on his uniform shirt. His loud coughs seemed to echo against the walls, and he was sure that even the Slytherins on the other side of the hall was staring bothered at him.

"Uh, yeah. Of course... Uhm... Yeah, you know..."

He tried to speak, but it seemed as if he had forgotten how to – sure, he had never been very eloquent but a simple "Yes" shouldn't have been a problem.

Harry was looking at his cooked crustacean-coloured friend and felt really bad for him. Ron would probably beat himself up for this all evening, he thought. He heard Hermione question Ron about his absent ways, and was quite interested when Fred and George's heads intruded his eyesight in a way that felt almost violent.

"Hey kiddo's, we're having a little get together in the common room tonight so try to take some butterbeer with you. We only got a few bottles of wine out of the kitchen before the house elves caught..."

"We mean, before the house elves had, W I L L I N G L Y, given us what they felt was enough." Fred interjected into George's rant.

Hermione's attention, that had just until now been busy dissecting Ron's personal turmoil went to questioning the morality of Fred and George's action – a for Ron welcomed change. He began arranging himself to leave the table and head for the Gryffindor tower and as he walked away he heard that distinct voice challenge his brothers. "... underage drinking leads to... taking advantage of innocent, hard working house elves..."

Harry was walking up the stairs to the dormitory, feeling his ears return to normal as the high volume-music grew more distant. His feet seemed a bit wobbly on their soles which made him think that he had had a bit to much to drink but to his recollection he only had two or three butterbeers. Maybe he was just nervous? He knocked on the door before entering. Why he did so he didn't really know, it was as much his room as anybody else's and he'd never done so before. Ron was lying in his bed and, to Harry's surprise, reading a book which he slam shut as soon as Harry entered.

"Ron, are you coming downstairs?" he asked.

Ron rolled over and faced his friend, and laid silent for a few seconds before answering.

"Uhm, yeah. Sure. In a while." he said, and rolled back to his original position. He opened his book and started reading again.

Harry didn't feel like staying as Ron didn't seem to be very hospitable, so he just went to his trunk, got a cardigan and left.

The fire was roaring warmth onto her back as she sat on the deep red woven rug in front of the fireplace with Ginny to her right, Harry across and Neville on her left. George appeared from nowhere, it seemed, and parked his behind between her and Ginny with great trouble. He seemed very drunk.

"Ginny, my dear dear daughter! Or, no... Sister.. Sister, that's right huh? How's it going? Wait... What, what are you doing here anyway? You're to young to be drinking... Go! To bed with you.. Go poff!" - the last word said with a grandeur hand gesture which seemed to mean something like "I don't know what I'm trying to say, but I'll say it with determination!".

"I'm not even drinking, dung head, it's just soda. And if anyone's ready for bed, it's you." she calmly replied.

"Well, you're right! You're so right about that. ANGELINAAAA! Come! Take me to bed you minx!" he shouted across the room while trying to stand up, succeeding only thanks to the sturdy support of Hermione's head. His weight almost pushed her into the fireplace. Neville laughed a bit, took a sip of wine and leaned his head against Harry's shoulder. He on the other hand felt that Neville was getting a bit to comfortable and left them to sit in an empty sofa he had spotted. Just when he sat down, Ginny appeared and sat down next to him. Her eyes are just like Ron's the thought.

As he was came out into the common room, he felt the stench of sweat and teenagers hitting his face almost like a wall. Up in the dormitory the air had been cool and fresh whilst this room was in desperate need of an open window. He leaned over a table with empty cups and a half full bottle of firewhiskey, unhooked the window and pushed it open with his fingertips. The fresh oxygen felt like a soft but yet brisk hand across his face. He scouted the room, saw Hermione sitting by the fire with Neville, George and Angelina was, (barely), standing beside them with quite intertwined limbs and very interlocked tongues. He let his eyes wander a bit more, and found what he was looking for. Or, who. Harry sat in the small, uncomfortable, orange sofa with Ginny. They seemed to be having quite a good time. He was just about to walk over when he saw the red head lean over and kiss the boy, who closed his eyes and leaned in a bit as well. Ron's heart fell in his chest, or if it fell out of him completely. He was about to head for the dormitory again when he turned around, grabbed the bottle on the table with a firm grasp and went for the exit instead. As he walked past his sister and best friend, he met the latter's gaze.

When he saw those green eyes fly by him in the haze, he realized what he was doing and sat up straight.

"Is something wrong?" Ginny asked, brittly.

"Sorry, this isn't... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. I have to go." he said in haste as he went after Ron through the Fat lady.

"Youngsters out in the hall at night! Such improprieties!" she sang out into the stairwell.

"Shut up!" Harry yelled at the painting. "Where did the other he go?"

"Where did who go?" she answered, annoyed.

"The marching marsh troll of Wales... The other improper youngster, of course! Which way?"

"Oh, no need for that tone young man! He went that way." she said, pointing down the stairs to his right.

"Why is it so cold?" Ron thought. "It's only September". He took another sip from the bottle, and felt the whiskey burn in his throat. The lake seemed evil in the dark. In the horizon, it melted together with the cloudy sky, which didn't show any bit moon nor stars. He had walked down to where the Durmstrang ship had anchored last year. The floating wooden pier that had let the students walk from the ship onto the Hogwarts grounds was still there, like a bridge into plain darkness. He sat down and condemned his decision to storm out of the common room instead of just walking up to his bed and cry himself to sleep. Or, at least, why didn't he think of getting a jacket? He tried to empty the bottle, but couldn't take that much and coughed loudly into the vastness of the night.

"Ron?"

As soon as he heard the voice, he stood up and threw the bottle to his side. He wanted to yell or something, but didn't know what or why.

"I'm... I'm so sorry... I didn't want to. I don't want to now either, it wast just... "

"It was just what?" He had found something to yell at his friend. And he did so loudly.

Harry stood their nonplussed, searching for words or actions to grab onto. The cold air was biting through his woolen cardigan as if it was of needles, and as he clutched his arms around himself he started to walk closer to Ron.

"I'm sorry. It's just, I'm not okay... I'm worried..." Harry tried.

"I know that! But you're not the only one that's worried or terrified or haunted of the thought of him, but you're the one going around acting like an arsehole! I... I kissed you and you've ignored me completely until tonight, and when I go to find you I see you snogging my sister! I've been here for you every single way I could since Voldemort returned, but I can't help you – and THAT makes me scared. You have a death warrant on your head, and when you die I'll be all alone. And you know what? With all of that, I'M not okay!"

Ron fell to his knees and started crying. Harry walked all the way over, and squatted beside him.

"I know... I... I'm sorry." Harry uttered, vaguely. Ron looked up at his face, and could see himself in the watery eyes. There was a long moment of silence. Then, he almost flung himself over Harry, clutching to his friend so tightly his muscles could manage, not wanting to let go. He felt Harry's heath pass onto his own chest, first now realizing how cold he must be. Harry toppled over onto his back, and he felt Ron's weight on top of him. He tried to sit up straighter, but Ron was still holding him firmly making the attempt hard, and the thought behind it halfhearted.

They sat like that for what seemed like and hour, but was probably less than ten minutes before Ron started to loosen his grip and tried to stand up. His legs had fallen asleep, and on top of that he know had to realize he was a bit tipsy. Still, he straightened himself out and then helped Harry up with ease. As they started to walk towards the castle, they where still holding hands. Harry stopped them on the castle stairs, standing one staircase higher than Ron to get leveled. Then he kissed his best friend.

"I am... I'm so sorry." Harry said while his lips where touching Ron's.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm not."

He had uttered the words so delicately that Harry had trouble even noticing Ron's lips move, but there was no need for it. As he felt Ron's hands tremble over his thin sweater, just at the end of his ribs, he knew it was okay. He felt it was good. And with that he kissed his friend again, on the lips, lightly biting the lower one and then seeking his light skin with his mouth.

Ron was feeling Harry's breath against his chin, as well as feeling himself heat up even though the cold around them where attacking. He moved both of his hand up against the others face, placing each palm against the frozen cheeks and smiled.

"We'll both catch colds, you know. Come with me." he said matter-of-factually, and almost demanding – as if Harry was obligated to do as he said. He figured that the liquor had done his self-esteem some good.

The quad seemed almost sinister this time of night and Harry couldn't help but imagine how easily someone could attack them from behind a pillar, a shrub or from the roof – if there was someone of that caliber at Hogwarts, that is. He saw that frost had started forming on the grass and could not help but to feel uneasy about it. Last year they would have been able to go swimming around this time. He now realized how chilled he was and began thinking of how nice a warm bath would be right about now. "I wonder what the password to the prefects bathroom is." he thought as Ron pulled his arm abruptly.

They sneaked through a side door into the castle and walked through the many empty dark corridors leading to the common room. Or so Harry thought, but as they were entering the room with the stairwell that would have taken them there, Ron just led him across the landing into a room with a table that seemed larger than the room itself.

"It's for faculty meetings." Ron said, as if he was reading Harry's confused mind. "Oh, okay." Harry said in unusually high-pitched and closed the door behind him. They where standing quite far from each other, as afar they would be able to without climbing furniture, and looked at each other. For some time this was all they did, and all anyone of them wanted to do. Then, seeking warmer pastures, Ron and his hands took two steeps forward and placed themselves around Harry's hips. As they slid up under the sweater Harry gasped at how cool they where, an inhaled deeply. They weren't rising high at all; they stayed at his hips which was actually just the slightest bend inwards. He could feel the top of his pelvic bone, and then thrusted himself towards Harry and at the impact they fell back and slammed up against the door. They could feel each others heartbeats. They could feel themselves growing hard as well, but in the moment it was more about the closeness than common adolescent arousal. Harry placed his arms around Ron's neck and interlocked them, clutching his hands around his own elbows, and leaned forward as well as tilted upwards on his toes the small distance required to make them kiss again.

After a while, they slid down the door, and sat next to each other, close. They didn't do much at all, exchanged casual conversation at points, 'til Harry rested his head on Ron's shoulder and slowly drifted off into sleep, not realizing that Ron had been there himself for several minutes. He didn't dream ill that night, not that he remembered anything at all when the morning sun reached in through the window at the crack of dawn to awaken him. He elbowed Ron slightly.

"We should go. We've been gone all night."

Ron, leaning on what looks like some sort of filing cabinet, looks in a confused mist around the room, recognizing his whereabouts. Harry, who is at his feet, helps to pull Ron upon to his and they

tip-toe out of the room and up the stairs. They don't hear much at all, and Harry quickly figures that no one is up yet when he sees a house-elf scrubbing the stairwell. He nods greetingly at the elf as it looks at them with some bewilderment, probably acknowledging to itself the unusual circumstance it's experiencing. It must be to early and to late for students to normally be lingering in the halls, and Harry figures to himself that he almost never have seen house-elfs out and about in the castle, with the exception of Dobby's extracurricular activities. The Fat Lady is sleeping when they get to her, and in an unexpected flare of intellect Harry attempted whispering the password in hear ear, hoping it would not, so to say, awaken the beast. When the portrait flung open without as much as a word from the portrait, he tried to high-five Ron, who missed Harry's hand greatly.

One of the red-haired twins where sleeping on the couch intertwined with Angelina as they sneaked in. Harry glimpsed at the watch on the wall and could see that the hour was no more that around five in the morning – people would not start getting up for at least one, one and a half hours.

"My head hurts." Ron said quietly. "Like, smashed with a hammer-hurt."

Harry couldn't help but to smile slightly at this rite of passage-moment and helped his friend, his love, up the stairs and to bed. He seemed to somehow be both still drunk and hungover at the same time, as well as half-asleep.

As they entered the room he could see Neville turning over and looking towards him for a moment before dozing of again. Ron laid himself down on his bed, fully clothed and felt like never leaving. Harry took in the room to see that everyone was actually asleep and then help him to undress. He tried to pull his shirts over his head but they got stuck halfway leaving fiery hair visible at the top and a strained face on the other side. Slightly laughing he gave the shirts a jerk and they flew of him and Ron once again laid down on the bed.

Harry watched the pale torso contrast against the red spread. Ron had freckles over his shoulders, slightly trickling down his chest to then fade out into almost non-existence as the ribs end. The skin was stretched between his ribs and belt and slightly bent inwards with the vaguest hint of musculature, which Harry looked intensely at as he unbuckled Ron's belt and pulled the jeans of him. His thighs where as pale as paper and almost completely hairless, though in the light he could see hints of blonde or pale-red hair silhouetting, and then growing more dense as he traced Ron's legs downwards with his eyes. He left the socks on, turned towards his own bed and took up a blanket to lay on Ron. As it fell he glanced at the shape inside Ron's dark gray underwear and felt nervous before his need for sleep hit him furiously hard, like a cylinder block. They had probably only slept for around three hours, and they wouldn't be able to catch many more before everyone would be up and about.

As Harry undressed and pulled back his bedspread he wondered when he and Ron would be able sleep next to each other again, wanting it. As he tucked himself in and laid himself on his side, facing Ron's bed, he could see him open those green eyes in a daze. He felt his own close before he could see Ron's do the same.


End file.
